


Everything Happens In the Commons

by Dracien



Category: Original Work
Genre: "Bullying", "High School Setting", "Main Character is Kinda a Bitch", "Mentions of Abuse", "Mentions of Homophobia", "More as the Story Goes", "No Idea What I Am Doing", "Slow Updates", F/M, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:30:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8887489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracien/pseuds/Dracien
Summary: Everything happens in the commons.  
Staff and students alike all experience life within the confines of the commons.  So clearly nothing of import could possibly happen outside those walls, right?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote in high school and have decided to post. I will use the original draft as an outline, since there were many things I wanted to include originally, but somehow skipped right over.
> 
> Updates will be slow since I just got a job and I am not sure how to work certain parts.
> 
> I also don't have a beta so all mistakes are mine. Feel free to correct them in the comments. I will try to fix them as they are pointed out. 
> 
> I am pretty bad at summaries, so if while reading this you have a better suggestion as a summary (or even a chapter title) please share and I will change them.

Everything happens in the commons.

As is in all high schools, the commons provide a safe haven for the weary student’s soul and a prime location for fostering bonds that may or may not survive past June. The students interact and socialize with each other, learning and spreading the current social norms. Socialization: the news, the complaints, the rumors, all float on the breaths of these youths. Information passes between each student and spreads as rumors until everyone has at least one version of the truth. They all blissfully go through their every-day routines, during their every-day lives, in their every-day places.   
  
Humans are beasts of habit, they fear change from their simple sense of peace. As such, every beast is in its place. Jocks, as many different types there are, locate themselves by paintings of the school’s wolf mascot in an act of solidarity to their school spirit. The cheer squad can be found intermixing with the jock groups or in the bathrooms applying make-up or doing their hair. Nerds and Geeks spread themselves in and around the library waiting for it to open and once it is they migrate inside to set up their magic the gathering and video game circles. Skater-punks use the handicap ramps in the parking lot for personal practice. The Gothic-emos and other black-wearing groups gather in small herds in every nook and cranny that exists on the first floor. Finally, the drug addicts, stoners, and delinquents can be found at the back of the school building known simply as The Pillar.   
  
All these humans, all these habits, all happening in the commons. Even I am a beast forced to follow the habits of my own creation. I am not a jock, not in cheer, not into gaming or skating, and I certainly am not into drugs or violence. I am a little of all things, too much of one but not quite enough of the other. My clothes are too dark and plain to be considered part of the “popular group” yet too bright and cheery to be considered part of the “unpopular group”. I blend somewhere in the middle. My hair is short and black, my face is average; my grades are average, my personality is apathetic at best. My hearing is quite keen, so I listen. The voices of every student, distinct in pitch and speed, flow into my ears and ring their meaning into my mind. Their opinion, their stories, everything about them is stored in my memory. So I travel through the commons and listen to that all goes on. Just by listening, I can remember. I know everything. I understand people. The way they think, act and feel.   
  
Tracey Gallenhart is a big breasted, blonde-haired, cheerleader. She is the most popular cheerleader and can frequently be found in the area with football team members or in the bathroom fixing her make-up. Tracy wears the shortest skirts and the tightest tops that are all clearly in violation of the dress code, but the supervisors let her get away with it. She is habitually late to class regardless of the class period, yet infrequently receives punishment, or even a reprimand. Every boy stares as she walks by, ogling every curve she openly reveals. Every girl also stares as she walks by, some condescending, some envious, and even some conspiratorially. She loves the attention, and cares little for anyone other than herself. They do not know that her mother ran off years ago and her father is an abusive drunk.  
  
Troy Flodders has been playing sports since his forth birthday. During his last year in middle school, Troy’s natural talent for football began to shine and all other “distractions” were dropped. Homework and school projects are completed only to keep his GPA above the cutoff level. He skips out on dates and evening hang-outs with friends in order to bulk-up at the gym. Anything that is slightly difficult, or takes extra work is immediately abandoned. The only facet of life he focuses his attention on is football. Therefore, he neglects the arts and academics to support his athletics. This football starting quarterback frequents the northern mural, and is surrounded by other football team members and a few cheerleaders. They do not know that he could be quite successful academically if he wasn’t so pressured by his peers to be their perfect athlete.  
  
Gary Spersh sits on the southern stairway surrounded by his four closest friends. He has a mild temper and gentle personality that doesn’t leave a big impression on others. Gary is kind, polite and always has a compliment or a good comment about everyone. He enjoys helping others or even just talking to them. He is a natural leader; he organizes activities and events and easily gathers supporters and participants. Gary’s group of friends is very tightly knit and they always have each other’s backs inside the school walls as well as outside. They are above average academically, and constantly participate in community service activities. They do not know he has a crush on the boys’ basketball team’s ace player, Michael Tucker.  
  
Timothy Harper weaves through the other students as quickly as he can. He travels swiftly, making no eye contact with anybody. Timothy has a small build and is constantly harassed by the other students, both verbally and physically. The teachers try to perform their contractual obligation and help, but they are always too late. This is only a small high school, only about 3,800 students enrolled. The most difficult part is that there is not only one person that bothers Timothy. It seems like nearly every student is out to bother him to some degree. There is no real reason that people target him; it is possibly a combination of the awkwardness of teenagers and self-preservation. Out of all the offenders, Marvin Parker is the worst. I can see him from my perch at the top of the main staircase, quickly sneaking behind Timothy, down goes Timothy and all his stuff goes everywhere. Timothy is a quiet kid and does no one any harm, yet no one is willing to go out of their way to help him.  
  
All these students, all day long, the same thing. Everything happens in the commons. The commons provide an open environment for the students to socialize feely. I take advantage of this environment and absorb all the information that passes through the air. Not for any specific purpose, just because I have nothing better to do. My presence in the commons is seldom known. I don’t have any outstanding features, nor do I have an enthusiastic personality. It makes my life easier. Nobody annoys me with conversation, or tells me things I already know. Humans are weak creatures with an instinctive need to add significance to their pathetic existences. They try to excel in a single or multiple aspects of life, such as academics, arts, or athletics, but most of them fail. The failures all congregate together in an attempt to lick each other’s wounds, while the ones that succeed are looking too far ahead to even notice. All the people that I see and hear dance around in their puny lives and try to make themselves more important. It is a natural human selfishness to be desired and greater than the rest. Humans are greedy and selfish creatures.  
  
I know everything that happens in the commons. Every event, every story, every emotion, every student, I know it all. Since I know everything, one of the few people that know of my existence constantly tears at my patience for information. The one name I dread to acknowledge: Kyle Reece. He is an uber-happy go-getter. Kyle idolizes “justice” and the protection of the peace (he wants to be a detective when he grows up). He helps anyone and everyone. If something needs to be done, Kyle is the guy to do it and for some reason he wants me to take part in his elaborate schemes to deliver justice. He always wants information out of me so he can ‘do something’, I don’t ‘do’ things, I observe. I don’t know how he found me, or how he found out that I know everything. I just know that he can annoy me to no ends until he gets what he wants. He is very good at getting into other people’s business.  
  
Kyle gets his feelings of superiority by “fixing” the lives and problems of others. He goes out of his way to help others and refuses acknowledgement. It makes me wonder. Normally a person takes the easiest paths to be successful and all the glory that comes with it. A normal person would not get involved with other people’s problems and refuse any positive credit at the end. Kyle is the opposite of all the things I know about people, and it irritates me. So then I stop wondering because he is too annoying to bother with for too long.  
There is only one trait he has that I find admirable in the teenager: he is all walk with little talk. If he says he will do something, he will get it done. It is a rare characteristic in high schoolers and in people in general, to always follow through on everything they say they will do. When his serious determination dominates his demeanor, I have little will to refuse his requests. His over-happy, energetic golden retriever personality, however, enables me to refuse flat-out most of the time.  
  
As always, if you speak ill of someone, they are sure to appear. Kyle walks with haste through the morning commons and straight towards my location. I can see through his super cheery smile that he uses to greet every student on his way. He has one goal, information, and he needs it from me. There is no question, he is after me. It is obvious in the glint in his eyes, the slight tension in his shoulders and the polite way he quickly brushes off conversations. Kyle makes his way up the stairs and up to me. With his uber happy voice he greets “Good Morning Lisa!”  
  
I don’t respond.  
  
He immediately drops his super happy smile and flashes his saddest puppy dog eyes. They usually work on most people, but I am not most people. “Lisa, I said good morning to you.” His whiney childish cries scratch at the chalkboard of my tolerance. I scorn him, “oh my god Kyle, would you just shut the hell up! And my name isn’t even Lisa” He slides his arm over my shoulder, “No need to get vulgar with me, it was just a greeting. And you never told me your name, so I made one up. You just look like a Lisa.” He sticks out his bottom lip like a spoiled brat. The stupid bastard is seven inches taller than me, and never lets me forget.  
It is a very sensitive issue, my height. It’s not like I’m short, but I am not very tall either, and I haven’t hit my last growth spurt yet. It’s just that I don’t like people that think they are better just because they are taller. Kyle is one of them, he thinks he is so great just because he is taller than me. Stupid Kyle. I give up. I hate physical contact, but I hate Kyle more; so Kyle’s physical contact is unbearable. “What do you want?” My tone wasn’t the most pleasurable or even welcoming at all, yet it somehow drew out Kyle’s serious face. My one weakness, the completely serious face of a person that will accomplish something. I find it to be a rare and amazing attribute in people, and I fall for it every time.  
  
He begins his answer, “I need some information Lisa.” Which I already knew. He asks some questions about a few math teachers and how sports teams pay for officials and equipment. He also asks about the computer lab and which people are in charge of different things, like inventory, upgrades, and distribution of supplies. I answer them as quickly and as accurately as I can so he can stop touching me, not really paying much attention to what exactly is asked. Kyle seems content with my answers and removes his arm to leave. I sigh in relief that he is finally leaving. Kyle takes a few steps down the stairs and stops.  
  
Zane Tonwick is on his way up the stairs. He is the second student to have somehow found out about me. He is a quiet guy that lumbers around the school not really caring about much. Zane is much more like a domesticated bear than a student. The oversized bastard towers at six feet eight inches, yet he slouches a lot seeming to attempt to make himself appear smaller for some reason. He is the biggest, baddest and best nose-tackle the School’s football team has ever seen. In fact the entire defense is centered on him.  
  
If I were absolutely forced to choose, I would prefer the company of Zane over Kyle hands down. His quiet personality enables me to sometimes pretend that he isn’t even there. Whereas Kyle goes out of his way to ensure that he has all of my attention all the time and it is exhausting. There is anti-social and then there is me. It is not like I hate people, I just hate interacting with them. I can sit in the middle of a group of people and be perfectly fine, but if someone tries to start a conversation with me, that is when it gets irritating. It is mostly because people my age are just plain stupid. They are all still immature, yet want to be treated like an adult only when it is convenient for them. They are perfectly happy playing the “I am still a minor” card whenever anything that requires responsibility comes up. Although, thinking about it now, there are a lot of adults that play cards that can retract any responsibility while still trying to reap the benefits of being older.   
  
I snap back to reality and realize that Zane and Kyle have been staring at each other since I entered my deep thought. They both clearly have no great dislike for each other, yet there is a palpable tension in the air whenever those two meet. The rumor going around is that they both like the same girl and they are both pursuing her. Nobody seems to know who this girl is, not even me, and isn’t that irritating, but whoever she is, I only feel a little sorry for her. She probably has to deal with this testosterone generated tension a lot more than me. There haven’t been any fist fights between them nor even a loud verbal argument, which I find strange for their age group.  
  
At some point during their intense stare-down the school’s starting bell rang, warning students that they had eight minutes to get to their first period classes. The commons is filled with the moans and groans of students dreading the school day. Not many are enthusiastic about classes at Windsome High School. I am one of the reluctant ones. Zane and Kyle silently agree to a truce and head to their respective classrooms. I take a moment to simply wait and hope that something will occur that will suddenly end the school day. When no meteors, or random rampaging circus monkeys appear I trudge in the direction of my class to start the day. Sadly, no matter how slowly I walk I make it to my classes on time and there are no major disturbances that make the day go by quicker. The classes are boring and monotonous. I like to think myself as a quick learner. So when the teacher has to explain the same concept nearly word for word to the class about ten times and I have already completed the class work and homework after the first explanation, the time spent in class feels like it drags on forever. I somehow manage to survive to lunch.  
  
Lunch is everyone’s social heaven. Lunch time is the time that everyone feels safe from the tiresome burdens of classes and homework and can recharge in order to survive the remainder of the school day. They tell everyone everything. I grab my lunchbox and plop myself down at a seat near the edge of the lunch tables. Not too long after I sit down Zane arrives and sits next to me. The first few times he sat next to me I would give him my best unimpressed eyebrow raise or stare silently at him in order to make him feel uncomfortable enough to leave, but he didn’t seem to care. He doesn’t speak much anyways; I like that kind of company: Silent and easy to read. Unlike Kyle, that is a very talkative person, and I can never tell what he is thinking. Unless, I think for a moment, he actually isn’t thinking at all and just acts. That would explain quite a bit about him. Speaking of Kyle here he comes.  
  
His Shaggy hair flops as he walks briskly toward my table with a large smile on his face. A slice of pizza and a milk carton sit on his little tray. He energetically crashes into the empty seat beside me. “Hey Lisa~”, his over excited voice sounds particularly annoying right now. He has been sitting next to me at lunch since he found out where I eat. I am not sure why he thinks we might be friends. I have done all that I can to discourage him, yet he continues to seek me out and talk my ears off. I keep my head down as I bit into my sandwich. My greatest defense against that annoying pest is to ignore it until it goes away. Unfortunately, it seems to be ineffective. He continues to talk to me anyway. He doesn’t know that I have selective hearing and can block out his voice. So even though he is chatting right next to my head I can still observe the rest of the lunch tables and catch snippets of conversations.  
  
Tracey Gallenheart is boasting of her time at her family’s vacation house in the mountains. Her fabricated story is iron tight with plenty of plausible evidence that could be fact checked so that nobody actually finds out her real home situation. I haven’t decided if she uses this ruse for social survival or simply as a method of escapism from her harsh reality. Troy Flodders is standing with the other football players in front of a set of lockers, sans Zane; all in their varsity jackets is some strange ritual of solidarity. They seem to be collectively teasing one team member for some score on his math test. I throw a slow blink in their direction. They apparently have absolutely nothing better to do than to ridicule one of their own over something inconsequential as math tests. Actually it should be concerning, since if they do not keep their GPA up, then they could be kicked off their teams.  
  
Gary Spersh is sitting at the table directly beside Michael Tucker, in a seat that gives him a perfect view of Michael’s profile. Gary is a super sweet guy. I wonder why he hasn’t told his friends that he is a homosexual. It is not like any of them are prejudice against that sort of thing. He could be concerned of his friends reacting incorrectly, such as treating him like a girl since he likes guys, or it could be he worries he will be hounded with an interrogation to discover the identity of his crush. Poor Timothy Harper just had his lunch thrown to the floor. He picks up the pieces, throws them away and leaves the lunch area. The little guy gets bullied all day every day. He always manages to escape after whatever lunch timed torment he is exposed to some area that I have yet to discover, and isn’t that irritating. Everyone is doing what they do all the time.  
  
Everything happens in the commons.  
  
The bell that ends lunch rings and everyone begins to shuffle to their next class. Kyle, the annoyance, feels the need to follow me. Zane and I both have chemistry right after lunch, which makes sense as to Zane walking next to me. Kyle does not have chemistry. He follows anyway. There is nothing that I can do to stop him: I have tried. Every day he gives me a good-bye-hug after lunch and before chemistry. Which is stupid, we see each other every day, usually multiple times in a day, so there is no need for such an emotional departure and reunion every single time. Yet, Kyle still feels the need to express his feelings through contact, as over dramatized as they are. Right on cue, as soon as the three of us are a few feet from the chemistry door Kyle captures my torso in his surprisingly strong arms and murmurs a quick “see you later” before strolling down the hall towards his own class. I don’t bother violently resisting; it has the opposite effect anyways and makes him hold on longer, but I do struggle and glare at him the entire time he walks away. Zane, used to our little love-hate ritual (Kyle loves to bother me, I hate Kyle), simply stands holding the door open for me.  
  
We both walk into the classroom and sit in our seats in the back row almost in the middle. If it wasn’t so irritating it would actually be pretty comical observing Zane and I sitting next to each other. His large, bulky form taking up nearly a desk space and a half next to my, admittedly, small-ish frame occupying only the width of the chair and notebook I use. I take a moment to glare at him to show my displeasure at his audacity to be so tall and large. It sadly has no effect on shrinking his mass, bummer. Suddenly, a body falls into the seat at my other side. Troy Flodders also has chemistry after lunch. His entire body is turned away from me so he can better talk to the girl next to him. The final bell rings to indicate the start of class and the students quiet down just enough for the teacher to talk about the new lesson for the day and then pass out a work packet. Troy turns toward me just far enough to address me, but not far enough to actually see me and asks “hey, can I borrow a pencil”? I already have a spare out and place it in his hand, making sure not to touch skin or look directly into his eyes. He has asked to ‘borrow’ a pencil every day of the school year, and has yet to return any of them. His improper use of the vocabulary term: borrow is not the part that makes me raise an incredulous eyebrow, it is the fact that he usually just writes his name on the paper and proceeds to talk to the girl on his other side the entire class period. If he isn’t even going to do the work, don’t bother asking for a pencil.  
  
However, today seems to be one of the off days that the girl he usually talks to is completely engrossed with the person she is texting and looking up using social media on her phone. So with nothing else to do Troy looks at the work packet the teacher passed out (instead of actually teaching the class) and begins to read the information printed on the front page. It is on these days that his true abilities peak out from beneath his school jock façade. He only has to read the passage once, some simple explanation of balancing chemical reactions and combustion, and already he can answer the questions and solve the equations on the other pages. I can do that too, it is not like the material the teacher presented us is difficult at all, but most of the other students keep flipping through the front page to the questions and back attempting to locate the information needed. I would not call Troy ‘smart’; ‘Smart’ is simply a word that describes people that know a lot of information. I would instead describe Troy as decently ‘intelligent’; which is the ability to learn. Yet somehow, Troy does not want to be associated with either of those descriptors, almost fears it even. Which is stupid. Any points he may have in my book for his ability to learn are immediately taken back due to his easy submission to his equally stupid peers.  
  
The class ends after an eon, yet only manages to be 59 minutes. Troy Flodders is out the door with the other students that are out the door even before the bell rings, with my pencil that I know I will never get back. Sometimes I wonder where he puts them. Does he lose them sometime between this period and the next, or does he take them home and assemble some kind of pencil architectural structure of a miniature football stadium? I am confident that the latter is unlikely. Nothing interesting happens the rest of the school day. The classes are easy, the homework is easy, and I remain bored out of my mind until the final bell rings.  
  
Life begins again when school is out. Most students take the bus, while others walk home, and very few drive themselves. Troy Flodders drives himself, two other football players, and two cheerleaders. Tracy Gallenheart is one of them. He is clearly exceeding the car’s passenger capacity, considering he has an old, fixed-up muscle car that probably doesn’t have fully functioning seatbelts. Gary Spersh rides the same bus as Michael Tucker. I watch as Gary steals a quick glance and sits in the seat directly behind Michael. Everyone is acting all the same. Right on cue, Timothy Harper exits the school building while looking over his shoulder. It seems he might have escaped a tormentor by the skin of his teeth, but the problem is that he has many. Another person slaps his binder from his hands, there is a mildly humorous laugh rolling in the groups of students nearest him. Timothy quickly picks up his papers and trots passed me to get back to his house.  
  
I can never catch a break. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Kyle Reece happily making his way toward my location. He sets his bag next to mine and sits next to me on the low wall in the front of the school. “Hi Lisa! How was your day?” I have tried ignoring him before, but that just somehow encourages him to keep talking. The quickest way to end the conversation is to let it run its course. I reply with a short and simple one-worded “normal” and grab my bag to begin my trek home from another monotonous day of school. Kyle follows me and chatters about nearly everything under the sun that I tune out until about half way to my house where he turns down Burk Lane while I go straight. I let out a long soul-shaking sigh. He really is the most exhausting part of my day.  
  
About ten minutes after we separate, I get to my house. It is a large and empty house. My room is much the same, large and empty. Which is also much like my life if I think about it for a moment: large and empty. I toss my bag to the corner and fall to my bed. I have already finished my homework and some of the classwork for the next week. Nobody else will be back for an hour or two. Dinner isn’t for another four hours. I have already finished my books from the library (I should probably return those and check out more soon). There is nothing to do but sit and wait. There is nothing interesting in my life outside school since everything happens in the commons.

**Author's Note:**

> Since I don't have a beta, if anybody feels so mind-numbing bored at the time you can shoot me a message and will send you the rough drafts.


End file.
